


Taliesin

by Blue_GhostGhost (Delphyne)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Master/Slave, New Orleans, Original Slash, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slash, Slavery, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-21 13:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15558360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphyne/pseuds/Blue_GhostGhost
Summary: Andre reluctantly agrees to return to New Orleans to watch his former teacher's house while he takes care of some family matters. That includes Taliesin. And maybe he doesn't entirely understand Nathaniel's relationship with his spirit familiar and maybe that's going to be a problem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh I really don't need another WIP in my life, but I can't get this one out of my head so here it is begging for your thoughts. My question is...do you think this could be a cool short story or does it need to be a full sized novel thing to be successful? I'm hoping for a little feedback if possible. Also blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writer blog where I whine about these sort of things often 
> 
> *translation of the ancient welsh:
> 
> I was a sword in fist  
> I was a shield in battle  
> I was a string on a harp.

“I have been a multitude of shapes,

Before I assumed a consistent form.

I have been a sword, narrow, variegated,

I will believe when it is apparent.

I have been a tear in the air,

I have been in the dullest of stars.

I have been a word among letters,

I have been a book in the origin.”--The Battle of Goddeu

 

“You need to come to New Orleans.” Nathaniel did not phrase it as a request and Andre felt a spike of annoyance as he held the phone to his ear. He was standing in the terminal at LAX, about to take a cross country flight back to New York and he was far too tired to deal with Nat’s bullshit right now.  

“No I don’t believe I shall,” he said tersely. “I just spent a week coaxing a vengeful spirit out of a six year old girl. I’m going home, Nat. Goodbye, Nat.”

“Wait. I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t an emergency.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not helping your case. I much prefer people who seek out my company for non-emergencies.” He had studied under Nathaniel Roberts, been his apprentice for almost two years, in fact, and they’d fucked on more than one occasion, but he wouldn’t exactly call him a close friend. He usually did just fine with his southern genteel prissiness, hell rile him the right way and that could be a good time, but there was an ice in the man’s heart that left Andre unsure sometimes, made him want to keep his distance.

“There is a family matter I must address. I expect to be abroad for at least six weeks.”

“Okay.” He knew vaguely that there was a London branch of Robert’s clan and they could get up to trouble, but he’d never bothered asking for the details. “ What does that have to do with me coming to New Orleans?”

Nathaniel sounded mildly annoyed at having to explain himself. “I need someone to watch the house and water my plants. You have experience with managing my affairs and I trust you to leave well enough alone with things that don’t concern you.”

Andre let out an incredulous huff. “Seriously? Hire a gardner. You don’t need me to fly out there for _six fucking weeks_ for that.”

“There is also the matter of Taliesin.” A chill ran through Andre, as his heartbeat kicked up a notch, blood thudding in his ears. “I need to focus on the problems at hand and taking him...would be a distraction.”

The first time Andre had seen Taliesin he was kneeling on a cushion in Nathaniel’s greenhouse workshop, a slim figure with its head down and a curtain of shockingly red hair obscuring his face. He was so still and quiet, so artfully posed that he almost seemed like just another curio object in the witch’s eclectic collection--not a flesh and blood thing.   
  
Nathaniel favored alchemy and he had been explaining to Andre the principles of his distillation apparatus, with its spiderweb of flasks and copper tubing when he had looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin to realize they were not alone.   
  
“Who’s that?” he’d asked, hairs on the back of his neck prickling.             

“Ah yes that would be Taliesin.” Nathaniel had looked pleased. “He’s a spirit, a witch’s familiar. They take a great deal of skill to conjure and bind. Especially this one. He is the Ariel to my Prospero so to speak. Have you ever met one before, my dear?” Andre had shaken his head no, curious and apprehensive. “Come here pet.” Taliesin rose, movements fluid as he crossed the room. He wore only a black robe, a slippery fabric embroidered with roses that cut off at the knee, his alabaster feet bare on the stone floor.

When he reached them he once again dropped to his knees at Nathaniel’s feet, eyes downcast. “Master,” he murmured. Andre’s stomach lurched, compelled by his beauty and strange mannerisms, the blankness in his expression, doll like. He wanted to both touch him and flee from the room.

Nathaniel ran fingers through his hair, humming, a small smile on his lips as Taliesin leaned into his touch. “They are feral, wild things from an other worldly plane. Always remember, Andre, he may look like a boy, but there is nothing human about him and he is dangerous. Not unlike petting a tiger, hmm?” The boy had simply blinked and said nothing.

Andre would learn that Taliesin’s powers were indeed no small thing. With an incantation he could call storms. He sometimes had visions of the future and he could change form, lurking around the estate grounds in the form of a bird or an orange cat. And if Andre had gotten used to Taliesin’s timid, infrequent speech, his tendency to appear as if from the wallpaper itself at Nathaniel’s bidding, he never could come to any satisfactory conclusion as to what exactly Taliesin was: a mythical creature? Some automaton formed from the ether by Nat’s own will and magics? If he truly was a spirit, was he as broken and random as the ghosts that Andre now spent his days trying to send on?

Certainly Nathaniel was diligent in his control of his strange creature, demanding absolute obedience and correcting any infraction. He also doted on him, using endearments and offering indulgences, sharing the master bedroom with him. It was perhaps an eccentricity to be expected from their kind, to have these little obsessions with the supernatural.

 _There was also the other thing_ , the thing that had seared itself somewhere in the dark shadows of Andre’s mind. That time with Nat when they’d been drunk on Sazerac Rye and the hour late, falling into bed as they sometimes did. Nathaniel, grey hair mussed and glasses askew, had called to Taliesin with a knowing smirk and he had seemed _real_ enough then hadn’t he? His body had been warm and smooth, trembling under Andre’s hands, shadows cast under sharp cheekbones as absinthe green eyes watched him place his palm to the young man’s chest and feel the very real heart that beat there. “You’re so beautiful together,” Nathaniel had said as he trailed kisses across Taliesin’s shoulder, stopped to suck up a mark on the pale column of his throat, making the boy’s eyes slide shut. “Such a pleasing contrast to have you both in my bed don’t you think?” It had only happened the once, the memory blurred by alcohol, and Andre could never decide if he was thoroughly ashamed of himself for it or if he simply regretted never asking for more.

He cleared his throat, mouth feeling suddenly too dry. “You want me to babysit Talisin?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Maybe you could think of it as a bit of a research project? I have added some significant texts to my library since the last time you were here and as far as matters concerning your ghosts go, I’m sure Talisan could be of assistance. He is far less attached to his corporal form than you or I. You’re more than welcome to make use of him while you’re here.”

****

The house was up town on Prytania Street, only a short walk from Lafayette Cemetery No 1, just another of the many Italianate Victorian monolith in the Garden District, as pink as a conch shell with its prim moldings and white row of columns obscured by a garden heavy and wet with tropical vegetation, the broad fan of palm trees, climbing bougainvillea, Japanese Magnolias, and the old oak tree that dripped with Spanish moss. Nathaniel’s people had arrived in New Orleans from New England shortly after the civil war and the house had been in the family ever since, eventually going to Nathaniel after his aunt had died. He’d made good use of it, turning the glass conservatory attached to the back of the house into a workshop and converting the neglected upstairs study into a respectable library.

Talisan had lived here for six years now and he knew most of its secrets, the hiding spots, the little dark things behind the walls even his master didn’t know about, the ruin markings under the floorboards, the body buried in the garden with its white skull grining beneath the the soil--artifacts left by generations of witches far too clever for their own good.

When he was sure that his master was asleep, his breathing deep and even, he slipped from the bed, pulling drawstring pants and a loose top over his nude form, although in the tropical heat he was hardly cold. Designed for the climate, the ceilings were high throughout the house to catch the heat, thick bladed fans suspended low, but this also meant that the widows tended to be narrow, giving the rooms a dark isolated feeling, especially with the ornateness of the moldings, the copious fireplaces, veined marble mantles and rich colored walls.

Talisan padded silently down the grand staircase and into the front parlour, a room with a motif of dark blossoms printed across the furniture, rabbits and their pursuing hounds scattered across the wallpaper, red as blood and as dense as a tapestry. He stood there a moment, mind slipping into the blankness it often went to when he feared pain or humiliation, a place it was certainly well trained to go these days, for the master never missed an opportunity to reinforce his compliance. He sighed, head swimming, wishing he could go wash the smell of Nathaniel from his skin, his mind, his soul, that he could go out into the garden and lay under the night jasmine, let the humid evening air gather around him until his sheer garments clung to his skin and his hair was full of twigs and cobwebs. But first there was the task that must be done.

Dropping to his hands and knees he pulled back the bit of baseboard behind the sofa, pale, shaky fingers reaching into the crevice there to pull out the familiar needle and roll of paper. He pricked his finger without hesitation, watched the droplet of red pool up before using the tip of the pin to transfer it to the paper, carefully scratching out his words in his old tongue, for he had been a sacred poet once and it was in his prose some of his power still lay. His hands shook, his own raw magic butting up uncomfortably with the bond that held him here. It made cold sweat break out across his back and forehead, a seasick feeling low in his belly, but he persisted with careful concentration.

Nathaniel could bind him and put him on his knees. He could assign him arduous tasks, use his gifts for his own stupid whims. He could beat him until his body was nothing but one mindless agony lost in its own suffering. He could fuck him, but as long as Taliesin kept his words, fed them with life-blood, he couldn’t make him think he liked it. He couldn’t make him forget who he was, strip him of the last of his personal dignity and if the only person who could ever know it was him, so be it. It was a small, hollow victory in the face of so much lost, but it wasn’t a concession he was willing to make.

 _Bum cledyf yn aghat_ _  
_ _Bum yscwyt yg kat_   
Bum tant yn telyn.

He grit his teeth, eyes stinging as the renewal spell took, making his heart ache. And so he had both the lack of power to change his circumstances and the sharp ability to suffer the full of it. Nathaniel was a damn fool and curse his bones anyway. Taliesin wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, angry at himself for his sudden weakness. If he gave into tears, they would never stop. And then where would he be? Pretty damn hard to convince even an idiot witch that you’re in the thrall of his power when you’re blubbering like a child. Besides he’d rather dig himself a spot next to the corpse under the oak tree than give Nathaniel the satisfaction of seeing him defeated. Suddenly there was a prickle down his spine, a shift in the air that frightened him. He tensed, hastily putting away his supplies and pulling himself to his feet, eyes darting around the room. There was a knock at the door and Taliesin considered for a moment before going to answer it.

Andre was standing on the poarch. He smiled when he saw Taliesin, looking apologetic. “Sorry to arrive at the witching hour. My flight got delayed. Your master is asleep I assume?” The man had a large duffle bag thrown over his shoulder, dressed casually in a light blue shirt that was striking with his dark complexion.

“Yes, sir. He is.” Taliesin stepped aside to let Andre into the house, head bowed. _What in the ever loving fuck was he doing here?_ Nathaniel’s student had always watched him more closely than he liked, eyes lingering, and Taliesin hid his wariness with his usual mask. Andre carried the witch magics of his West African ancestors, ghost whisperer, death walker, child of Baron Samedi with the scent of tobacco and rum on his breath. The spark of his gift brushed past Taliesin now, so very different from the feel of Nathaniel's own earthy magics of zinc and iron, of blood and fermentation. Andre’s arrival curled through the house, making its haunted corners shiver and the bones in the garden rattle.

“What are you doing up then?” The question was asked conversationally, but it still made Talisen stiffen.

“Letting you into the house.” He held his tone neutral. He hardly needed this little ghost witch telling tales to his master about his night time habits.  

Andre blinked, seeming surprised. “Well, yes of course. Thank you. I apologize for dragging you from bed, Taliesin.” His hair was shorter and he was more clean shaven than the last time Taliesin had seen him. Maybe a year ago? Had it been that long?

“No apology necessary, sir. Are you hungry? I could fix you something to eat.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no don’t trouble yourself. I know where the guest room is. I plan to make good use of it immediately.”

“Of course, sir.” He swallowed, eyes cast down as Andre regarded him. “Please let me know if you are of need of anything else.”

“Just happy to have somewhere to rest my tired ass.” He pat his shoulder awkwardly. “It’s nice to see you again. You look well.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said watching Andre’s back as he headed up the stairs, more unnerved than he would like. He felt jittery, the part of him that felt premonitions foreboding something coming, something he was not prepared for, something that threatened and promised in the same breath.     

 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter the non/con tag is for just as a heads up. Thank you to those that left comments on the last chapter. Feedback is always super motivating! I think I'm going to try to keep this to 10-11 chapters, but we'll see! Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writer blog, so come say hi.

Taliesin woke to hands on his skin as he lay in the big four poster bed in Nathaniel's room, fingers in his long hair, lips and teeth across his shoulder blade. The sun poured across the bedding, the heat of the day already beginning. He had hoped to avoid this so soon after his master had slacked his lust the evening before, but that did not seem to be the direction things were going. He didn’t move, laying still as Nathaniel did as he wished to him, lazily exploring. “Andre arrived in the night, master.”

“Oh good.” He did not sound surprised. “You let him in then, I assume?” He pulled Taliesin hair away from his face and neck, arranging it to his liking across the pillow.

“Yes master.” Nathaniel leaned down and bit his ear, making him gasp as he suppressed a shutter, hot breath running across his skin, more kisses trailed wetly down his neck. A hand snaked around to toy harshly with one of his nipples and he did wince then, biting his tongue as his body went tight and hot. How long had he fought this? A year? A year and a half or more? That was a time that had taken him to the very brink of madness and he struggled to remember it clearly, blurred by blunt pain and extreme confinement. He had liked himself much better before he’d learn to quietly submit, to play tame and compliant, when he’d screamed and clawed and thrown his fury around the room.

“Oh my beautiful darling, roll over onto your stomach.” Taliesin shifted from his side to his belly, the feel of the cool cotton calming the churning in his gut somewhat. He spread his legs a little more without being asked, because as loathsome as this was, as much as his face burned with shame and self hate, he knew, _oh lord did he know_ , there were things so much more painful and humiliating that this witch would not hesitate to do to him if displeased. “I did not mention it earlier, because I did not want you to fret.”

“Master?” The feeling of alarm at his words was confused and crossed with the feeling of being breached by slick fingers, the initial burn of the stretch as they pumped into him insistently.

“I have to go to London for a few weeks.”

“L-London, ma-master?” His voice cracked as Nathaniel ground his index and middle finger against his prostate. He hissed through his teeth, eyes squeezing closed tight enough to make them water. His thoughts scattered for a moment and he felt detachment take over, his mind seeming to float momentarily above his body.

“Knees up.” Without thinking, Taliesin pushed himself up, keeping his head down on the pillow, back arching lewdly. He felt the arm around his waist pulling him closer. He still was missing something important from this conversation. Nathaniel didn’t travel that often, but it did happen and it shouldn’t be something he’d particularly consider an issue for his pet spirit. _Because I did not want you to fret._ In his master’s world that was practically a promise that that was exactly what he would be doing. So what part was he not understanding?

“Such a shame, I can not take you with me this time, my sweetness.” There was a hand on his hip, the grip rough. Later there would red marks where his fingers had been.

“What?” The shock made him forget the honorific, but Nathaniel was too distracted to notice, the familiar sharp ache of being penetrated momentary giving Taliesin a sense of vertigo, leaving him mildly nauseous as Nathaniel slide all the way in, filling him up and balls resting against his backside.

He caressed his back and begun a rhythm, hips snapping forward without further hesitation, cock finding its claim on his insides. “But you’ll be good for Andre, won’t you my darling? My sweet boy.”

“Waa?” Alarm washed over him. He was panicking a little and that meant he wasn’t in control and that was dangerous. Heart still thudding, he forced his body still, willed up as much bright white blankness as he possibly could, mind as smooth and empty as the pillowcase filling his vision, even as he involuntarily gripped the bedding tight enough to make his knuckles bleach of color.

“You like him don’t you?” Nathaniel  cooed, picking up speed, fucking him with hard deep thrusts that jolted his body forward, bruising enough that he’d feel it later. “And I do think he rather likes you hmm? You remember don’t you, love? How much you two enjoyed playing together?” Nathaniel was reaching between his legs now, grabbing his half hard shaft and stroking it in time with his movements, demanding further sensations from his body as he spoke. _No, no, no. Please no._ “Taliesin?” He sounded impatient now, bordering on angry. “You remember don’t you?”

He swallowed, throat feeling as dry as bones. “Yes, master.” It was a whine. He didn’t want to come like this, but it was probably better than any alternative that might replace it. “I remember.” He wanted to scream, to tear the hair from his head, scrub his skin until it bled. What new degradation was this? How could he do everything Nathaniel ever asked of him and it still came to this? If he had believed a goddamn word of affection from the man, he would have felt betrayed.

“Just treat him as you would me and I’m sure he’ll be spoiling you as badly as I do within the week.”  Nathaniel groaned, his thrusts becoming uneven, breathing labored. He stroked Taliesin more insistently, the grip almost painful. “I rather find I enjoy thinking of the two of you together, my little cosmic entity.” He stroked his head idly. “Promise me,” There was a threat in his tone as the hand on his head caught up the strands of hair, pulling too hard, making tears well in his eyes. “That you will be good for him, my pet.”

“I promise master,” he rasped.

He let go. “Good boy. Be sure to save the details for me. I plan to savor them upon my return.” Taliesin came silently in Nathaniel’s hand, a lurching reluctant pleasure, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The witch followed shortly behind him, cock twitching in his ass, slowly rocking in the aftershocks of his orgasm, a squelching, disgusting sensation. He pat his side and pulled out. “Go make coffee.”

“Yes, master.” Taliesin used the direct order to roll away from the man with haste, retrieving garments and dressing quickly. “Shall I make breakfast as well?”

“Hmm?” Nathaniel spared him a glance, his mind clearly already moving on to other things. “Ah yes, but only if you hurry up. I have to leave for my flight in an hour and you’ve already put me behind schedule.”

 

****

 

Taliesin slunk down the hallway to the kitchen, nerves jangled and mind brooding. If nothing else he had come to rely on the predictability of his life with Nathaniel, dependent on his ability to act for the most part without thinking too much, that soft focus detachment that carried him through most of his days. What the fuck was he going to do with a new witch? A witch that might have an entirely different idea of what complacency in an enslaved spirit looked like?

Despite Nathaniel's musings about Andre knowing him, the truth was that Taliesin had limited their interactions as much as possible over the years, staying out of the man’s line of sight and trying to avoid his intelligent, overly curious eye. Nathaniel was formidable on many fronts--he’d bonded him against his will and brought him to heel hadn’t he?-- but he deluded himself when it came to Taliesin, practically did the lying for him sometimes, and he could not expect, could not afford to believe, a second keeper to be so wholly idiotic about wanting to believe he held a true affection for them. _No_. Fooling Andre was going to most likely be a lot of fucking hard work.

He stopped in the doorway, taking in the broad shouldered figure, shirtless in a pair of low slung sweatpants. He dropped to his knees, casting his eyes downward. There was already the smell of coffee, the sound of the peculator working. “Sir,” he said softly, suddenly wishing he had asked to wash and brush his hair before being tasked with going to the kitchen. He stank of sex and he found it embarrassed him.

“Oh. Taliesin.” He sounded surprised to see him. “Uh, goodmorning. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.” He kept his eyes trained to the floor, concentrating on the feel of the polished hardwood on his knees. “Sir if it please you, my master sent me to make breakfast.”

“Oh yes of course.” He gave a brief nod. “Please do whatever you need to. Am I in the way? I put on some coffee. Strong like Nat likes it. Do you drink coffee?” He could only imagine what Nathaniel would do if he found him in his kitchen, enjoying a cup of coffee before he’d even served him his breakfast. The idea of it practically made him giddy.

“No thank you, sir.”

“Alright,” he said affably enough. “But please do stand. You don’t need to do that for me. I’m not your master.” Taliesin watched him a moment longer from under his eyelashes, trying not to scowl. The sentiment was all fine and good, though he hardly put much stock in its implications, but he sure as shit would appreciate him not saying things like that within earshot of his actual master.

He rose, aware that he was being watched, his skin prickling. “Please do sit, sir. Perhaps I could get you the paper?”

By the time Nathaniel came downstairs, dressed in a grey three piece suit that was far too heavy for late spring in New Orleans, Andre was at the kitchen table reading The Times-Picayune and Taliesin was finishing up two plates of bacon and pain perdu with butter and syrup.

“Ah, Andre, my dear, you’re looking well.” Andre stood to greet him and Taliesin took the opportunity to put food and Nathaniel’s cup of coffee on the table unobserved, quickly retreating to to kneel on the cushion in the corner kept there for that purpose. “I’m glad that you’re here and I apologize for having to leave before we’ve had a chance to properly catch up. Perhaps lunch at Commander’s Palace when I return hmm?”  

“Sounds delightful.” Andre sat, eyes darting around the room, frowning as they landed on Taliesin briefly.

Nathaniel chuckled. “Don’t look so apprehensive. You’d think I was leaving you with my pet hyena. Taliesin’s obedience is impeccable and I have ordered him to follow your instructions without hesitation.”  

“Well I’m not sure how necessary that is. I don’t need a servant, Nat.”   

“Ah, ah, ah,” Nathaniel tisked, pointing an admonishing finger. “Don’t be silly. You misunderstand his nature. Once tamed, spirits are happiest serving their witch. Don’t confuse him by denying him his purpose. Here.” He pulled the gold stopwatch from his pocket and slipped it across the table. Taliesin, held completely still, his stomach churning as he tasted bile in his mouth. There were few things in this world that he hated more than that watch. “He is locked to this so I do not recommend you take it from the house. However, should you wish to send him on short tasks you can always set the timer and he will be released for that duration.” He indicated the correct settings and Taliesin flinched, his body shivering as Nathaniel demonstrated how it worked and the cool trickle of magic ran through him. “Perhaps it’s a bit more restrictive than some, but the nature of his magics means he is settled most comfortably with a lot of structure.”    

Andre picked up the watch, cradling it in his palm and staring at it pensively. “Alright. What else do I need to know? Does...does he eat?”

“Taliesin is permitted meals after he has completed his assigned tasks. But you are welcome to ask him for clarification on anything you like. He, afterall, knows all the rules. I really do not anticipate any trouble.” There was a knock on the front door and Nathaniel took one more bite of his meal before patting his mouth with a napkin.. “That would be for me. My dear, I am only a phone call away should you need anything. Please make yourself at home.” He turned his head slightly towards his spirit. “Taliesin go fetch my bags from upstairs and see to it that they are given to the driver.”

 

****

When Andre shut the door and they were alone in the house he turned and gave Taliesin an appraising look. He hovered there in the doorway between the front parlor and the hall, unsure if he should disregard the man’s earlier statement and kneel anyway. Had Nathaniel convinced him of at least that bare adherence to discipline? “I’m sure you’ll miss your master, but I will do what I can to keep up your routines. If there is anything I can do to make you more comfortable please bring it to my attention. If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t really know how this stuff works.”

Taliesin blinked at him blankly, a riot of thoughts and emotions rolling through his head at a speed too confusing to sort out with an audience. “You are very kind, sir. Thank you.”

“Would now be a good time for you to come have breakfast?”

“If it pleases you, sir.” In actuality he was too unmoored by the mornings events to want to eat anything at all, his stomach long ago turned sour. He would give anything to be dismissed, to flee like a startled cat and lurk in some anonymous section of the house away from the watchful gaze of his temporary master.

“Come on then.” He trailed after Andre with apprehension, Nathaniel’s come, still unwashed from between his legs was starting to dry and itch. “What would you like to eat? You’ll have to tell me what you prefer for meals for the next time I go to the store.”

“This is fine, sir.” He quickly took the initiative to collect Nathaniel’s leftovers and take them to his cushion on the floor, bending his head to the task of finishing what was left. Andre stood there watching him a moment, seeming unsure of himself.

“Oh uh. Do you normally eat there like that?”

Taliesin allowed himself to look up and perhaps, by fractions, he let his eyes convey a portion of what he was thinking. Are we seriously going to have this conversation again and again about everything I do, because the answer is always going to be yes. Why the fuck else would I be down here? “Yes, sir,” he said neutrally.

“Ok.” There was another hesitation. “Well if you don’t need anything else, I might take a run before it gets too hot?” He phrased it almost as a question, one Taliesin was wholly unequipped to answer.

He swallowed, feeling as if a piece of bacon might be logged in his throat. He didn’t entirely seem to be doing it on purpose, but this witch was breaking his brain. “Do _you_ need anything else, sir?” he asked rather helplessly.

“No. I’m sorry. Please finish your meal. We’ll talk later.”

“Thank you, sir.” He stayed kneeling, waiting until he could hear footsteps on the stairs before standing. He threw what little was left of his breakfast away, making quick work of the dishes. With any luck, he could have the kitchen clean and then make himself scarce, possibly avoiding crossing paths with Andre for at least the better part of the morning. After that, he’d have to take things as they came.

  



End file.
